Caught in the Moment
by Dragonflys-Girl
Summary: [Mac Stella] There would be time for categorizing the feelings later, but they both knew, at that moment, they had a future to fill. Postep: 01.19 Crimes & Misdemeanour 01.20 Supply & Demand 01.21 On the Job. STORY ARCH COMPLETED
1. Crime & Misdemeanour: Recklessness

Title: Caught in the Moment I - Recklessness

Author: Peach

Disclaimers: They are not mine, and I'll let you know that I am broke to a point where I can't afford to spend $$ on a Starbuck coffee, so, don't even think about suing me. You won't even get your lawyering fees back.

Genre: This is more angst and romance... wow, what a change! gasp

Spoiler: I'm WAAAAYYYY behind… but I'm getting there. Presenting the post-ep for 01.19 Crime and Misdemeanour

A/N: This story would have finished a LOT earlier had my muse not decided to die on me for a week then decidedly become single-track and pursue stories with NCIS, then come back and make sure I have to do an overhaul of the whole story. The result is this: something I have yet to try with the CSI: NY fandom. Read on to find out…

Feedbacks, I want feedbacks -- run out to put a sign on my front lawn -- I want feedbacks! I'll cry if I don't get any feedbacks… or I can go on strike…

* * *

Mac waited patiently for the phone to be picked up. It was the middle of the night, and he had nothing but persistence and time. 

Finally, after about five rings, a groggy and not-so-pleasant voice answered, "Bonasera."

"Hey, Stella," he said good naturedly, knowing full well that his partner may have his six for waking her up in the middle of the night after the shifts she pulled to crack the case.

"Mac?" she sounded more awake upon hearing his voice. "Something's up? You want me to meet you somewhere?"

"No, it's not that," he corrected softly, already regretting having woken up his partner. "I can't sleep."

"Then go to work," she grumbled a little.

"I'm already at work," he admitted. "I ..."

"You never left, did you?" she picked up where he trailed off, and sighed. "Mac, you need to sleep."

"What's sleep?"

Both were quiet. They were comfortable enough to just hear the other breathe without words. It was a connection they both treasured.

Finally, after several minutes of the silent bonding, Stella, as usual, broke the silence, "You wanna come over to talk?"

"I should let you get back to sleep."

"Bull," her tone was almost chiding - almost, "You wouldn't have called if you wanted to let me sleep. Come on over, and we'll talk."

She hung up without saying goodbye. He put the phone back in its cradle and turned to look at the wall of his office. There were pictures of the work he'd done as a marine, a beat cop, and a detective. Those were evidence of his youthful time when Mac Taylor would do the irresponsible things, the same impulse for which he just gave his young charge a serious dress-down.

The phone on his desk rang, and without thinking, he picked it up, "Taylor."

"You didn't wake me up just to leave me hanging, Mac," it was Bonasera, and apparently, she knew him well enough to know he would be dwelling still. "You get in your car and drive to my apartment and ring the doorbell so I can open my door to let you in."

He chuckled at her tone, "Any more instructions, ma'am?"

"No," she scoffed, and chuckled. "Just get here. I'll make coffee. I still have that Irish coffee you like so much."

"I'll be there," he promised, and this time, it was he who hung up.

The drive over to Stella's passed quickly. Though the traffic in New York rarely eased up, Mac easily navigated his vehicle to her place. Her apartment building is set on a deserted street, back away from the crowded concrete forest where even the nights were bright as days. Her apartment's light – he would know which one to look for from the numerous times he stayed in his car to make sure she got into her apartment alright – was the only one on. Considering all her neighbours were "normal" people (but, really, who could be the judge of what was normal?), they would all be asleep.

Stella Bonasera was never the "normal" type, of course; neither was he.

In quick steps, he marched up the stairs and into the foyer of his apartment building. She had given him the door codes earlier in case of emergency, and he had had it memorized. The elevator was too slow for his taste, and he swiftly moved to the stairwells. She lived on the seventh floor – not high enough to give her the perfect view of the city, but not low enough so that her apartment would be the venue-of-choice for burglars, either.

He was in front of her apartment when she opened her door.

"You're slower than your last timing," she said by way of greetings and stepped aside to let him into her apartment.

"Thanks for keeping tabs," he responded dryly and followed her into her homey apartment.

Conversation ceased after he set foot into her home, her turf. They moved comfortably around one another with the ease of old partners and friends. This was the part of the relationship Mac treasured the most: they didn't have to use words to communicate. Everything was so easy with Stella, sometimes easier than it had been with Claire.

He knew better than to try and take over the task of getting them beverages – "I live here, Mac Taylor, and no matter how dear a friend you are, you are still a guest, and I don't want you to have to serve yourself in my apartment," she had said in exasperation once, much to his amusement – so he got himself comfortable on the couch. Stella Bonasera was many things, but she was not patient, and he knew she would be on his case very soon.

She came back out from the kitchen carrying two cups. From the smell alone, Mac knew she had brewed the Irish coffee she kept just for his visits, as she had suggested on the phone.

"So, Mac," she started as she curled up on the couch beside him. "Talk."

Very much so her style – direct and to the point.

Mac sat quietly beside her for a moment and opted just to study her features. He knew Stella probably caught on that something wasn't right the moment he chose not to be in the interrogation, and she didn't press him for details.

"I'm sorry I woke you up in the middle of the night," he said by way of starting. He did feel bad for waking her up, especially after how hard she had worked on the case. He knew, because he saw her initials on so many of the analysis that were done to apprehend the guilty.

"Tell me what happened at work that got you so worked up," she prompted gently.

He was partly surprised to learn she had pinpointed the cause of his current mood so easily – though he shouldn't be, because she was Stella Bonasera, after all – and his expression must have shown the sentiment, because she shrugged, "You can't sleep, and you were already at work when you called, so this must be something that's bothering you because of work, and you, Mister, need to talk about that."

"Did you have a major in psychology?"

"No," she shook her head, "But I've read enough self-help books to have at least a basic understanding of human emotions."

He watched her still, and saw the shimmer of pain in her eyes before she hid them from his views again. Someday, he vowed, he would be the one to talk to her about her pain and let her know she was not alone. Not now, but someday, when he was more stable himself.

"Did you hear what Danny did?" he set the cup on the coffee table in front of him and said, finally.

Stella only shrugged and kept looking at him.

He leaned back against the couch and stared at the ceiling instead of looking at his partner, "I told him to drop the investigation – there was no homicide and he had better things to do, like helping us out. He just marched head on into it; he even dragged Aiden into it."

"Okay," was all she said.

Mac shifted so he was facing his friend directly, "What, no comment?"

Stella again gave a non-committal shrug, "You didn't wake me up in the middle of the night just to tell me Danny disregarded your orders again – those are your morning rants. If it were that simple, you would have worked up a temper and dished it out tomorrow – or, rather, today – morning. So, tell me what's really bothering you before I fall asleep here."

He looked at his long time friend carefully, wondering how Stella managed to read him so well. For someone who valued his privacy so much it was unnerving to have his thoughts so neatly laid out and handed back to him.

"There used to be a time when I would act as he did," he closed his eyes briefly.

"But not anymore," she filled in for him.

He nodded his agreement, "Not anymore, but I used to."

"Mac, it's like a phase. You go through it, others go through it. You're not the only one that has to leave something behind."

"I just can't help but wonder if I've been too hard on Danny," he rubbed his eyes tiredly. Almost immediately after Danny turned the corner and walked out of the lab, he regretted the dressing down he dished out to his young charge. "I mean, I was once like him."

"Back when you still wear your heart on your sleeves, you mean?"

"I guess," he admitted reluctantly. To be honest, he wasn't too thrilled with what he had done.

"You said it yourself, Mac. It was a different time. You've grown since the time when you were like that. Make Danny understand that. Teach him the lesson that you've had to learn the hard way."

Mac sucked in a deep breath at her mention of the lesson he was taught for his recklessness. It was one of the demons that occasionally kept him up at night; one of the many that he shared with his partner after the Towers fell and she stayed with him through his lowest.

"Don't beat yourself up too badly for that, Mac," she chided, as if she could envision the mental beating he was lavishing on himself.

"How can I not?" he rubbed his face with his hands tiredly, hoping secretly the action would end all nightmares. "If it weren't for me and my stubbornness and my selfish action, McAllister wouldn't have to retire early."

"Mac, you were young. You just joined the force. You saw something suspicious and you followed your gut. That was what your marine training and instincts had you do. You just didn't remember that it was not the Marines anymore. It was an honest mistake by a jarhead-turned-rookie."

He closed his eyes against the waves of attack of the cruel reality of what had happened. He was young, as Stella said, just graduated from the Academy and was assigned as McAllister's rookie. He was a great teacher, taught him most of the stuff he had to know on the streets. Then, one day, at a stake-out, his confidence made him reckless, and despite McAllister repeatedly telling him to hold his position, he trusted his gut and took off after a shadow and left McAllister without a partner to cover his back. By the time he heard the gun shots and realized he was only chasing a shadow and returned, McAllister was already injured and on the floor, his career bleeding away with his blood.

The finger snapping in front of his face woke him from the horrible nightmare, "Focus, Mac. You don't do things recklessly anymore, and that is something you have gained from that horrible incident. McAllister didn't blame you. He helped you understand what you did wrong and made you realize what it really means to be in a team. Help Danny understand that."

"What if I can't?" He hated the vulnerability he detected in his voice. In his world where things had never gone right for a long time, he had gotten used to being strong, never weak.

"Of course you can," she must have seen something in his expression to notice his distress, because she reached out and gently rubbed his cheek – a gesture he didn't realize he had missed since she stopped doing it after the Tower … after he was thrown back into solitude in life.

"You have too much faith in me, Stella," he bit his lips to keep from groaning when she took her hand away. He didn't want to appear needy. "How can I help him when I can only barely stop myself from doing the reckless and irresponsible thing?"

"And what is that?" she prompted.

He closed his eyes and cursed himself silently for not noticing the direction this conversation was going earlier. He should have known. Stella would have been a very successful psychologist had she chosen that field of studies in University instead of chemistry and criminology. He should have realized she could get him to talk about what she wanted, directly or indirectly.

"Mac, don't hide from me now," she requested softly.

"And if I don't want to talk about it?" he snapped, impatient. She should have known by now that whenever he didn't want to share some information, it was for her benefit. She should have known, should have trusted him to have her best interests in mind.

"Mac," she sighed softly, as if saying his name would soothe all that was making his vision red.

"Why are you pushing it, Stella?" he felt remorse immediately for being short with her and sighed tiredly. "Why are you so insistent?"

"Because I am your friend, Mac, and I want you to feel better. You can't keep everything bottled up, partner. You gotta let things out every once in a while. That is definitely not good for you."

"Even if it may compromise everything? Ruin everything I've worked for?" he shook his head at the thought. "No, Stella. It's not worth it."

"It won't leave this room," she promised. "If you're worried about how things will be changed, I can promise you it won't. I won't say a word to others."

He was torn. Her offer to unburden himself was tempting, and a voice in his head kept telling him to give in. But to give in would mean the irreversible change of one relationship he had always found to be stable, one he was certain would not abandon him and leave him hanging, grasping for more.

"You know what I will do if I decide to through caution out the window and let consequences be damned?" she suddenly started and her voice penetrated through the fog of his internal deliberation.

He shook his head negative and was mildly amused. Stella's temper was well known, and even though he knew she wouldn't do anything overly reckless, she wasn't one known for exemplary restraints either.

Her voice shook a little, and (maybe it was his imagination) she seemed to have shifted a little further away from him, "I will kiss you senseless while the others look on."

She had said it so softly that he almost didn't hear her, but he did. His pulse was rising, he knew. Appreciation and adoration for the woman before him filled his insides. She understood his fear and his reluctance, and had opened herself up for his benefits so he wouldn't be the only one laying bear his demons.

He tried to get her to look at him but she refused. She dipped her head and closed her eyes. He was humbled, and he knew, then and there, he could trust Stella Bonasera with everything in him, including those darkest thoughts he was harbouring in him and she would still stand by him.

She was strong, maybe stronger than he, and she could take what he dished out to her.

"And I will kiss you back until you can't breathe," he returned just as softly.

He heard her gasp as she slowly raised her head to look at his eyes, gauging his sincerity in what he had just said.

"Mac," she breathed softly, biting her lips in hesitation. "Don't say something you don't mean just to make me feel better."

"Have I ever done that to you?"

Stella sighed at his words, her eyes closed. He waited patiently for her to respond, because, frankly, he couldn't understand where the decision to say the one thing that would alter the relationship came from, but he definitely wasn't going to say more until he knew where he stood.

At long last, she opened her eyes again and looked directly at him, "And what are we going to do about it?"

"Nothing," it almost killed him to say that, but he had to. There were things he could only do when he was dreaming; Kissing Stella Bonasera would be one of those things.

"Nothing?" her voice shook a little, and he berated himself for the loss of control on his part to cause her the pain.

"There is nothing for us to do, Stella," _Be strong_, he reminded himself. _You have to be strong_. "You said it yourself. What we said won't leave this apartment."

"But you're still in the apartment," she protested softly. "I promise this won't change anything outside of this apartment, but we both want this. You and I, we both want this."

"It won't be the right thing to do," he offered even tough he felt his resolve breaking.

She seemed resigned at his last rebuttal, and the loss and emptiness that filled him was a surprise. Abruptly, he stood up from where he sat beside her, "I better go. We still have to go to work tomorrow."

She nodded and stood up without a word.

Silently, they made their way to her door. She handed him his jacket and he shrugged into it all the while looking at her.

"Are we good?" he had to ask, had to know, because Stella's friendship was one thing he always counted on.

She was looking at him with something he couldn't recognize in his eyes, and before he could decipher that message hidden, she leaned in and brushed her lips gently against his, "Yes, we are."

"Stella," he started, but she had already moved to stand beside her apartment door.

"We'll be fine, Mac. We always have been, and that's not going to change. I promised you what was said in this apartment would stay here. Don't worry."

"But I worry," he countered.

She sighed and refused to look at him, "It's really late now, Mac. I'll see you tomorrow at the lab, alright?"

He could hear the determination and finality in her voice, and he voiced the only response acceptable, "Goodnight Stella."

"Goodnight, Mac," she said, and the door was closed behind him.

For some reason, he felt as if the source of content and pleasure in his heart closed its door on him at the same time.


	2. Supply & Demand: Reflections

Title: Caught in the Moment II - Reflections

Author: Peach

Disclaimers: They are not mine, and I'll let you know that I am broke to a point where I can't afford to spend $$ on a Starbuck coffee, so, don't even think about suing me. You won't even get your lawyering fees back.

Genre: This is more angst and romance... wow, what a change! gasp

Spoiler: I don't think anyone will be spoiled now, right? I mean, the episode's been over for... AGES... this is a post-ep for 01.20, Supply and Demand...

A/N: This is something new I am trying. I haven't done this in the series form in a series for quite a long time now, and definitely haven't done it for CSI:NY... but in order to understand this piece, it will be better if you have read part 1 of Caught in the Moment I, because, you know, this IS called Caught in the Moment II...

Feedbacks, I want feedbacks -- run out to put a sign on my front lawn -- I want feedbacks! I'll cry if I don't get any feedbacks… or I can go on strike…

* * *

Sullivan's was much quieter on a weeknight than Stella remembered - not that she frequented the tavern alone often. Normally, she would be there with the gang (namely Flack, Danny, Aiden, the occasional lab tech, and even more rarely, Mac).

Tonight, however, she was there alone, and she appreciated the quietness. After the day of emotional exhaustion thanks to a spoiled rich teenager, she would much rather spend the night in tranquility and simply allow her strung-too-tight body to unwind. The stress of the day, added to the emotional avalanche inside her for the past week since the heart-breaking conversation in her apartment, was finally catching up to her. She had made the one fatal mistake a cop - especially one with her experience - should never have made: she made a promise before she was aware of all the facts and the consequences involved. Nonetheless, she made Mac a promise that nothing ever said inside her apartment that night would not be mentioned again, and would have no effects on their relationship once he stepped out the door. That was nearly impossible, and she regretted having made that promise.

Jacky, the bartender whom she had befriended over the years, gave her a concerned look as he set down her Long Island Iced Tea in front of her. It was her third drink for the night, and she knew she would regret her decision to let herself relax the next morning when she had to work, but at the moment, she simply didn't care.

"A tough day, detective?" he asked conversationally when he was drying a glass.

Stella simply shrugged, and Jacky knowingly continued his task in silence.

It had not only been a tough day for Stella, but a tough week, even year or years. If she allowed herself to be honest (and there was no better time than the present since she was alone and already had a few drinks in her to loosen her up), she would admit that she had, in fact, had the same struggle for years. She had been harbouring the same feelings for the same unreachable man since before his marriage. What was different at the present was that she was aware that what she felt was not one-sided, but in fact, was returned.

Yet, there was absolutely nothing that could be done about that. He had refused to give in to the temptation, even with the promise of nothing ever leaving the apartment. He would not cross the barrier, she knew now more than ever, and she would never push him.

She had done enough pushing.

She wanted to get mad at him, but she couldn't, because she promised nothing would change outside her apartment. She could be mad at him when she was alone in her home, but once outside that sanctuary, there was to be no change, no barely concealed hatred in her eyes, no frigid undertones in her speech.

And so, she let her frustration loose with the teenager who had disregard the lives of her friends because she wanted to satiate her own greed and lust of wealth.

It came back to bite her, and even though she knew that would be yet another black mark on her file, she was secretly pleased that Mac was again on the receiving end of the IAB's wrath. Only she didn't anticipate the shouting match in front of the lab, and one of the most stern and serious dressing down she had received in the past few years.

It made her sick inside to argue with Mac. Their relationship had always been the one she counted on to be the anchor in her life, and it was unnerving to see their bond falling apart right in front of her.

One more sip from the straw and she finished another drink. Before she could catch Jacky's attention for another refill, someone caught her wrist. Turning to the side to tell whoever it was off, she came face to face with the man that had been haunting her thoughts for the past hours.

"What are you doing here, Mac?" she asked shortly. She was in no mood to deal with him.

"You are drinking way too much," he returned evenly.

"And it's your problem, how?"

Instead of answering, Mac gestured toward Jacky, who nodded, "It's all covered."

"Thanks, Jacky," the detective muttered before grabbing Stella's elbow and making her stand.

"You know I can get you arrested for attempt to assault?" she hissed.

"No, you can't, and you know it, and I know it," he retorted, his hand still strong on Stella's arm to make sure she was with him. "And you won't."

He was right, she wouldn't. There was nothing much she could do other than to curse him for knowing her so well, and herself for being so predictable.

Knowing that when Mac Taylor was on a mission, there was no stopping him, Stella followed him to his car. Ever the gentleman (or he just wanted to make sure she got into his car), he opened the passenger's door for her and closed it when she had settled comfortably. Tiredly, she leaned against the cool window and watched the road ahead. She could feel his gaze on her, but she chose deliberately not to notice, not to pay attention to his unasked question.

There was no parking space in front of her apartment, and Mac was forced to park further down the block. She got off the car automatically and led the way to her home. The night was getting chilly, and involuntarily, she rubbed her arms.

"Cold?" he asked, speaking for the first time since they got into the car.

She nodded, but didn't verbally answer.

She kept her eyes to the front, but she could hear him move beside her. Within a few steps, his suit jacket was placed gently on her shoulders.

Stella looked at the jacket on her shoulders, her fingertips brushing against the fabric gently.

She forced herself to not look at him, knowing that whatever in his eyes would be her undoing. She tried – really, she did – to act normal, as if that night in her apartment didn't happen, but it was obvious she had yet to fine tune her skills at hiding her emotions.

Finally, they were in front of her apartment building, and she turned to face him head on for the first time since he intercepted her "recuperate" session at Sullivan's.

"I think I can take it from here, Mac" she tried to sound firm, and cursed herself when her words slurred a little.

"I don't think so," he shook his head and, again, grabbed her wrists. She would have bee able to evade his grasp had the alcohol not double her reaction time. "Apparently, you and I need to talk."

She stood where she was and refused to move. After what seemed like hours, Mac finally looked up to meet her in the eyes, his gaze questioning. She refused to back down, though, and held on steadily.

"Stella?"

"We can talk here," she was adamant and afraid. She was afraid that if she let him inside her apartment again, she would shatter and there wouldn't be pieces to be put together again.

Mac paced in front of her for a minute, looking as if he was trying to think of arguments to change her mind.

"I'm really tired," she said again when he continued pacing. "Maybe we'll see each other tomorrow."

"I don't like the wall between us right now," Mac said, his voice gruff and he pinched his nose as he stood still in front of her.

"I'm sorry," she ducked her head. "I tried my best to not let whatever was said in my apartment that night came between us. I'll try harder."

"I don't want an apology, Stella."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to talk to me," he looked into her eyes hard and refused to look away. "I want you to tell me what exactly is happening to us right now."

"Nothing is happening," she was stubborn.

"And pigs can fly," he retorted and she looked at him wearily.

"Mac, you can't have it both ways. You said that night you don't want anything to happen between us, and so I'm trying to stay away from you. I need the distance after that revelation."

"And your way to dealing with that is to traumatize a suspect and get on the IAB's radar again?"

Stella shook her head weakly, "Don't do this to me, Mac. Don't push me away and expect me to act the same around you immediately. I am not a robot. I need time to digest what has happened and get my feelings in check before I can pretend to be normal around you again."

"Pretend to be normal?"

"I laid myself bare in front of you, Mac, and you shut me out and turned away from me. I showed you how I feel, and I almost begged you to start something with me. You shot me down, Mac. While I don't understand your reluctance, I accept that, but I need time. I can't do what you're expecting me to do. I can't just pretend nothing has happened between us. Please, don't push me. Give me some time to find myself again."

Without waiting for a response, she shook Mac's jacket off her shoulder and placed it back on him. Leaning in closer, she closed her eyes almost painfully when she saw him flinch at her action. Placing a soft and gentle kiss on his cheek, she pulled back and looked into his eyes, "I promised you we will be good, Mac, and I always keep my promises. I just need sometime, so, please, bear with me when I try to chase all the feelings I have for you away."

Stella could feel herself shattering in front of his watchful eyes, and she turned quickly to flee. She half expected Mac to follow on her heels, but when she realized she was alone, she knew she had hoped for too much. It had taken him a lot to have that conversation with her, and apparently, that would be the quota for his personal revelations for the night.

There was a war of emotions inside her and she wasn't sure what she was feeling at the moment. She was disappointed in Mac and how he was too afraid to let what might have been the most wonderful things in their lives happen; she was angry at Mac for stirring her feelings and leaving her to deal with the aftermath; she was frustrated with herself for not being able to let go; and she was heartbroken for the wedge it had obviously drove through them.

When Stella was standing in front of her apartment building, she was surprised to see droplets of her tears on the back of her hand.

Stella Bonasera was breaking down, and this time, she wasn't sure how she would pick herself up again. She couldn't do that, not this time, not when Mac wouldn't be there offering his support and his strength.

For all Stella knew, her world was spinning out of control.


	3. On the Job: Recognition

Title: Caught in the Moment III - Recognition

Author: Peach

Disclaimers: They are not mine, and I'll let you know that I am broke to a point where I can't afford to spend $$ on a Starbuck coffee, so, don't even think about suing me. You won't even get your lawyering fees back.

Genre: Angst, angst, angst, and romance, of course

Spoiler: I am doing so much slower than I planned… 1.21, On the Job

A/N: If the title is not hint enough, here's the blunt version: you need to read Caught in the Moment I and II before this to understand…

A/NII: This is the last story in the Caught in the Moment arch. Thank you all for the feedback! Tell me what you think of these stories and this format of writing? Pretty-please? with a strawberry on top? or do you want a raspberry?

* * *

Mac stood some distance away and watched his partner falter in the middle of the street. Before the tension in their relationship (what he really meant was before he so poorly expressed himself and rejected her overture of deeper bonding), he would have been right up there comforting her, but now, he wasn't sure if he was welcomed.

He missed the obvious loss of their closeness, and her ability to display her bare self to him. The days when she would stand in front of him after her cool-down shower, her emotions for him to see so clearly, were definitely very far away. And he couldn't help but to think that he was to blame.

He probably was.

It had been too long since they had been able to communicate effectively (because, really, the loud arguments they had at the lab or the forced effort to tease one another really didn't count), and it veered his life off track.

He knew he wasn't being honest with himself when he refused the intimacy Stella offered, and he also knew, damningly well, how rejection had been a big part of Stella's life and it was one thing that would shatter the strong woman. And knowing that, he still refused to let his heart rule for once. He still chose to hurt her.

She asked for time away. The last time they visited the topic of his late night visit to her apartment, she showed him exactly how deep the wounds he inflicted on her were. He berated himself on his own idiocy, though, because he should have known. He should have realized how fragile Stella was in terms of relationships and opening up herself. And he should bear twice the blame since he gave her the hope before cruelly crushing it with his feet.

The toll on Stella showed. Her normally upbeat personality had been taken down a notch since their "discussion" in her living room, and the whole lab felt it. Surprisingly, they all turned to Mac for the reasons, as if he was the only logical person to know what had been bothering Stella Bonasera.

His worries for her showed as well, and his need to be protective of her emotional state, especially after that night (he couldn't bear to revisit that night's heartache to properly describe it), was becoming more and more apparent. Even Flack noticed, and he approached him once to tell him, indirectly, that he had to trust Stella to do her job right after he realized a baby was part of all that was happening.

Mac wasn't going to deny he was worried for her working her case, when he saw how she had bonded with the baby that was not hers, the baby that she sympathized with, the baby that reminded her all too much of her childhood, of being abandoned. He was worried what it would do to her when she was faced with how uncaring the parents were to their child.

He was worried about her, and what that attachment would cause her.

Stella was a passionate person and therefore, when she was hurt, she hurt deep and painfully. All he could do was stand at the sidelines and wait for her call for help.

Only he knew that, this time, she wouldn't turn to him, because of the sins he committed against her, because of the part he played in stressing her emotionally.

He wouldn't have put her on that case had he known a child with neglecting parents would be involve – not that he had had a choice in that matter. With Danny being investigated, he was already short-handed, and having the two senior CSI's investigating Danny's case (and clearing Danny's name) would look too much like favouritism.

Danny.

The thought of the young man he had adopted as a junior figure somewhat between a younger brother and a son (because, really, despite his age, Danny really acted like a teenage boys sometimes) brought a frustrated sigh out of him and he pinched the bridge of his nose in hope to alleviate some of the pending headache.

Normally, he would go to Stella, to tell her all that was bothering him about people at work. He knew he could trust her, that she would keep his confidence and listen as a friend, not as a co-worker. She had this amazing ability to act the role he needed her to act at the moment.

Yet, he didn't feel like he had the privilege to ask that of her tonight. He had wounded her, and he had caused tension to their relationship, and she was still hurting. It simply wasn't fair to burden her with his problems when she herself was drowning.

So, Mac Taylor contented himself with staying away and watching her wallowed in misery, helpless to do anything to ease her pain.

She stayed still for the longest time, and he stood in the shadows guarding her the whole time. He didn't dare approach her lest his presence disturbed her thoughts, but he had worked as an officer in the Big Apple long enough to know that a woman looking distraught walking the streets of the city in the middle of the night was a welcome prey to all the perverts waiting to pounce. He wouldn't let Stella be a victim, and so, he stood guard; his protectiveness toward his partner overwhelming him.

Yet, he also found strength in that need to protect. From their conversation earlier in the day, one of the scarce ones these days that weren't filled with tension and undertones, he realized how much he really missed her in his life, and that it was cowardice on his part to let go of something that could be so wonderful.

A car sped by at that moment on the now quiet street and the driver honked loudly when they were approaching them. It brought Mac out of his thoughts. His hand went to his holster in an instant and let out a breath of relief when he saw a teenage boy stuck his head out and yelled profanity at his partner before breaking into a fit of laughter with his companion in the car.

The incident jolted Stella out of her thoughts, and she looked up to stare at the car passing by. It also brought Mac out of the shadow with a step closer to his friend.

She must have heard his steps, because she turned around quickly. He could see her hand was reaching back for her weapons. While he was glad to know that Stella's reflexes were still top notch even when she was distraught, he had no desire to visit the hospital as an injured.

"Mac?"

"Come on," he went over to her and held her arm gently. The images of him grabbing her rather forcefully at Sullivan's a week ago flashed through his mind and he winced slightly. It had never been his intention to hurt her, both physically and psychologically. He added that onto the many things for which he needed to ask for her forgiveness.

She was surprisingly pliant, and it worried him. Stella Bonasera was not a push-over, and even though she had acted rather docile outside work hour in the past few weeks (because, he knew, she was rearranging her mind to honour their agreement), she stood her ground and wasn't afraid to speak her mind, let alone be told where to go and what to do on her own time without putting up a fight.

He had her at the front seat of his car and again buckled her up; this time, wanting her to be safe instead of trying to stop her from leaving before he was ready. Without another word spoken, he started the car and drove.

"This isn't to my place," she finally spoke after several turns.

"No, it's not," he replied and did not offer more. He was a quiet person by nature, after all.

"Why?"

"We need to talk," he simply said.

"We tried that already, and it didn't work."

"Well, we're trying again then."

Mac was surprised she didn't have a retort for him, but was relieved. He needed all the time and concentration he had to drive and also to think of how to approach the topic without letting her get away.

At first thought, the discussion should take place at her place, because there she wouldn't be able to flee when things got rough, but he did a reality check, and reminded himself that he was more likely to run away than his head strong partner.

After all, Stella Bonasera was the strongest person he had ever known.

The rest of the ride was made in silence, making Mac wished he knew exactly what to say to ease the tension. Stella didn't protest when he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her to his door.

His apartment was cold in comparison to Stella's. He had moved from the house he shared with his late wife 3 months after 9/11 but still, he hadn't taken the time to make it feel more like a home. To him, it was a place where he could store his possessions, sleep, shower, and be his sanctuary from the crowd that constantly filled the city.

Stella had only been to the apartment exactly three times, all of them anniversary of that fateful day that had turned him to who he had become. All the time she was there, she made sure he ate and clean and rest. They didn't talk - they didn't need words to communicate, thus had been the depth of their connection – but she let him know he could turn to her and lean on her.

Mac opened the door to his apartment and stepped aside for Stella to walk through first. He watched as she took off her jacket and took it from her.

"You want coffee?"

She shook her head negative, "I still hope to catch a few hours of sleep tonight."

"I thought you'd be immune to the caffeine by now," he lightly teased, hoping to chase the tension out of her body.

She smiled, "Well, apparently not."

Mac watched as she settled herself more comfortably on his couch and positioned himself opposite of her. He wanted to see her eyes when they talked, because they were the only windows that would allow him to see through the façade that was Detective Stella Bonasera.

"Stella," he took a deep breath and started, "I think – "

"It's getting too hard," she, as usual, interrupted him before he could finish. "I know I promised you nothing would change, but it's getting too hard."

Her arms were flinging as she spoke, "I've thought a lot about this thing between us the last few days, and, and I want you to know that I am not proud of how things are turning out and I don't like it one bit. I just think that – "

Mac grabbed her gesturing hands and stopped her mid-sentence. He held firm, not strong enough to bruise her, but enough to let her know he would not be letting go easily, "Stella look at me."

He waited, and his request hung in the air between them. Finally, she looked up reluctantly into his eyes. Her green pools were filled with mixed emotions, and Mac felt his heart thumping loudly in his chest. If there was ever a moment to let go of his reservation, he knew, this was it.

"You really have to get used to letting me finish talking before you jump into a speech of yours," he started off softly, hoping to erase the discomfort he spotted in her eyes.

He could feel her relaxed a little and was relieved to see her smile, "Sorry."

"So, hear me out," he requested, still not letting go of her hands. "I've been thinking a lot about what has happened that night in your apartment, and I just can't stop thinking about what would have happened had things turned out differently."

"Mac – "

"Uh-huh," he shook his head, "my turn. I want you to feel my hands, and tell me if something's different."

She looked confused for a moment, but unlike Stella, Mac was known for his patience and he waited for her to see for herself what he wanted her to see.

Mac held his breath in as Stella's soft hands moved deftly in his bigger ones and he knew the moment she realized what was different. Her eyes went wide, and her fingers went moved across the now bear skin with surprise, "Your ring – what happened to it?"

Mac pulled a chain out of his pocket and shoed her, "It's here."

He let her take the chain and examine it. In addition to the ring that used to be on his ring finger, there was a locket, one that was delicate and yet masculine. He watched as she opened it and showed the empty spaces, waiting to be filled with memories.

"Claire will always be with me," he said softly when she looked up at him for an explanation. "I will not discard the years I spent with her. That's not who I am. But for the last three years, there had been another person that is constant in my life, that I know will be there for me whenever I ask, or even when I don't ask, that I feel the urge to protect and keep at my side for as long as possible."

He stopped and waited to gauge her reaction. Tears were pooling in her eyes, blocking him from seeing clearly what she was feeling. It was a gamble to do what he was doing, but he marched on. Mac Taylor had never been one to leave things hanging.

"I am not ready to categorize these feelings yet, but I do want to explore it, to see where it will lead me, because they are significant enough. It will most likely take away something I've been very used to for years, but I think I am willing to give it a try. The only question that remains is whether you would like to give it a try with me."

He waited with baited breath while watching her carefully. When she didn't speak for a while, his heart started pounding louder in his chest. All the what-if scenarios were flashing by in his brain and he wondered if their friendship would survive another blow.

"Even though it may be the reckless thing to do?" her voice was so soft that he almost didn't hear her.

He hesitated, but nodded his consent, "Even that."

"Then I guess we just have to investigate where this will lead us, won't we?"

Smiling, his hand covered hers and closed the locket. She put the chain around his neck and used her hand to feel the ring and the locket that were now beside his heart. Her hand returned to his and they smiled at each other. There would be time for categorizing the feelings later, but they both knew, at that moment, they had a future to fill.


End file.
